My Trip to Turkey: An Illuminating Experience

We live in a time when the first thing that follows “I’m going to Turkey this summer!” is, “But is it even safe?” A time where news of traveling to the Middle East is followed by fading smiles and worry lines. Despite the common sentiment that the Middle East is unsafe and especially hostile to foreigners, my family and I traveled there anyway.

Among the highlights of my trip were going to outdoor markets with my aunt and watching her bargain, as is custom to do; being served a 5 course meal and treated like royalty at a beautiful hotel owned by my dad’s childhood friend; and traveling to Harran, a quaint town approximately a 15-minute drive from the Syrian border.  I was reading a book in the car on our drive down from southeastern Turkey, but occasionally I would glance out the window to look at the rolling hills and pistachio trees. About halfway into the drive I looked up to see rows of small white houses on my right, which my mom explained was a Syrian refugee camp.

13507014_1343680395645522_556330706986064147_nAfter arriving in Harran, my parents told me I should only speak Turkish, not use my iPhone, and remove my jewelry. I asked my mom why I needed to take all these precautions. She told me the people there didn’t necessarily have a lot, and we were fairly near a war zone. She was worried about who might overhear us speaking English, and spread news of our presence to the “wrong people.” After having only heard Turkish for over a week, stepping out of the car and suddenly being surrounded by Arabic mixed with Turkish, I felt as though I had entered another country. The purpose of our little trip was to visit a city rich with history, go to a mosque where a famous pious Muslim was buried, and pray there. Next, we drove to the ruins of Harran Castle. We stepped out of the car to what we thought were the ruins and several guards from the village came over to us, welcomed us, and asked us where we were from. My dad told them he was from Şanlıurfa, carefully leaving out that he hadn’t lived there in over 25 years. The guards then directed us to the site of the real ruins, and one of them followed us on his motorcycle. We got out on dry desert soil and looked ahead of us to crumbled tan brick buildings surrounded by metal fencing. We wanted to go inside the fenced area to get a closer look at the archeological site. Out of the goodness of his heart, the guard let us inside to explore. As he followed us around, he heard that my mom and I were speaking English and asked where we were from. There was a long pause. I could tell my dad was deciding how to skirt around the truth. Finally my dad said, “I’m from Urfa… But my family and I live in America.” The man’s eyes widened, he smiled gently and said, “America? Wow…” and then he and my dad walked off chatting like old friends. In that moment especially, but for most of my time in Turkey, I didn’t feel I was in any sort of immanent danger; rather I felt safe, well cared for by strangers and friends.

Traveling to Turkey this summer only reaffirmed my belief that the country and the people in it are more than popular media coverage of bombings and the United States travel warning suggest. I believe Turkey is ultimately a peaceful country, along with most countries in the region, but it  has been stigmatized because of its location and because the majority of people there identify as Muslim. Without dismissing serious concerns about the destruction that happens for a variety of reasons in Turkey, I don’t believe labeling an entire country or region as “dangerous” is ever an accurate depiction. The United States is riddled with police shootings, gun violence, and terror on a weekly basis, but travel to this country isn’t hindered. Just as Americans would think labeling the U.S. unsafe based on gun violence, for example, is an unfair depiction of the American experience, fostering similar ideas about far-away countries despite having limited information about real circumstances is biased. I know firsthand from the hospitality I experienced and the immense beauty I witnessed that Turkey is so much more than rhetoric suggests.

 

honca_2016-10-03-author-imageNajiye Honca grew up in Newton, MA. Her father is Turkish, from Southeastern Turkey, and her mother is American. She has one brother.

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